Month: November 2017

How – and Why – Should the United States Proceed?

Introduction

The moment that humanity first passed beyond the Earth’s thin atmosphere, outer space became a subject of international politics; an arena characterized by the cooperative and competitive interactions that shape relations between states. The history of the “Space Age” is rife with examples of both – the race to the Moon, Apollo-Soyuz, Shuttle-Mir, and the International Space Station, along with several collaborative efforts on probes sent throughout the solar system. Likewise, space has served as a medium to directly support cooperation, competition, and strategic balancing between nations on Earth – as a means for treaty verification, to link economies, to enable warfighting and, as trends suggest, to potentially be a theater of war itself.

This fundamental facet of activity in space will remain essential well into the future, even if the dynamics of space activity are quickly evolving in the present. Far from the technological “battleground” between two competing superpowers that defined the genesis of the space age, outer space today involves numerous actors, both national and private, and will soon be shared by several more emerging space powers. Between traditional commercial operators whose services are pillars of the modern economy and new private ventures promising novel applications and markets, space is a vital sphere of economic activity. As international commons, it faces transnational challenges such as the proliferation of space debris, space weather, equitable allocation of limited spectrum, and legal uncertainties involving issues such as space property rights. Increasingly, space is, especially in the view of national security users, “congested, contested, and competitive.” Through these changing dynamics, the traditional lines between civil/government, commercial, and defense space systems and actors have become blurred; unilateral space activities are gradually being replaced by bilateral, regional, and multinational activities. This all suggests that cooperation (or, depending on perspective, competition) will be of redoubled significance as humanity pursues its space objectives through the coming century.

Since its beginning, the United States’ space policy has balanced cooperative and competitive strategies which span the civil, commercial, and national security sectors. Fostering cooperation in space with international partners is described as an underlying objective of the country’s space endeavors. The 2010 National Space Policy, which today remains the guiding Executive-level statement of the United States’ space policy, notes that,

“From the outset of humanity’s ascent into space, this Nation declared its commitment to enhance the welfare of humankind by cooperating with others to maintain the freedom of space. The United States hereby renews its pledge of cooperation in the belief that with strengthened international collaboration and reinvigorated U.S. leadership, all nations and peoples space-faring and space-benefiting—will find their horizons broadened, their knowledge enhanced, and their lives greatly improved.”[1]

Of course, the same document also enshrines principles of space competition, if it be needed, by acknowledging that,

“The United States will employ a variety of measures to help assure the use of space for all responsible parties, and, consistent with the inherent right of self-defense, deter others from interference and attack, defend our space systems and contribute to the defense of allied space systems, and, if deterrence fails, defeat efforts to attack them.”[2]

The 2010 National Space Policy lays out specific directives to national departments and agencies which offer avenues for international cooperation. These include, in addition to other guidelines: promoting cost- and risk-sharing in international partnerships; enhancing the security and stability of behavior in space; reassuring allies of the U.S. commitment to collective self-defense; strengthening partnerships in space surveillance and situational awareness; leading the development and adoption of international standards to minimize space debris; and participating in multilateral transparency and confidence-building measures for the peaceful use of space.

This constitutes a rather comprehensive list of opportunities for cooperation, even if the United States has not pursued their implementation in totality. As the political apparatus which develops and executes the United States’ space policy undergoes transition – with an incoming NASA Administrator, a newly stood-up National Space Council, and talk of a pivot back to the Moon coming from the Executive Office – a reevaluation of these the strategic value of space cooperation and of these opportunities is appropriate (and, indeed, likely already underway). In the coming years, what balance between cooperative and competitive approaches ought to be sought and how should that balance be managed? What domestic and international strategies are likely to be the most effective for achieving the objective of enhancing “the welfare of humankind by cooperating with others?” How should the United States leverage partnerships in space to best preserve and enhance its space leadership?

Why Do We Cooperate (and Compete) in Space?

These are significant – and challenging – questions. To begin to address them, a review of the purpose of international space cooperation and competition is needed. As a seminal topic of spaceflight, there’s been no shortage of discussion regarding why nations cooperate and compete in space. A broad body of literature, drawing from diverse theories of international relations and grand strategy, seeks to describe the various motivations and aims that drive nations and other actors to collaborate, and occasionally contend, with each other in space.

The field is too wide for this piece to describe in full, but several important recurring points can inform its analysis. Foremost is that, in the words of Scott Pace, current Executive Secretary of the National Space Council, “international space cooperation is not an end in itself, but a means of advancing national interests.”[3] Or, as Kenneth Pedersen, former Director of International Affairs at NASA, once observed, “international space cooperation is not a charitable enterprise; countries cooperate because they judge it in their interest to do so.”[4] Countries (and other actors such as companies) are inherently self-interested; their activity in and use of space serves a distinct goal – be it political, economic, scientific, or for national security – that brings them benefit, international competitive advantage, and justifies the costs and complexities involved in a space program. This assumption should underlie all consideration of and decisions about potential partnerships and opportunities for cooperation; indeed, NASA policy on initiating international cooperation requires it, stating,

“Each cooperative activity must demonstrate a specific benefit to NASA or the United States. Such benefit may be in the form of data, services, or contribution to flight mission or operational infrastructure systems, or it may directly support broader U.S. policy or interests.”[5]

Even if space cooperation is pursued out of self-interest, the benefits that come from it are numerous and occasionally more appealing than those from unilateral action. First is that of cost and funding. Spaceflight is expensive; for many countries, the financial burden of an active space program is simply too much for them to pursue alone. Cost savings through cooperation takes various forms – through “programmatic enhancement,” in which a country provides hardware to fly and operate on another’s craft, or “programmatic interdependence,” in which countries provide mission- and architecture-critical hardware for a shared project, actors can offer their core technological competencies without footing the bill for capabilities they don’t indigenously possess. Cooperation may also be pursued through bilateral or multilateral data sharing and, of course, scientist-to-scientist collaboration and research. Considering the complexities of the 21st century’s probable space projects – such as human expeditions to the Moon or Mars – and the scope of addressing sizable challenges such as space debris through remediation or removal, spreading the burden of cost across multiple actors will likely be a necessity.

Next is that of programmatic stability and political consistency. Incorporating foreign partners into a space project provides it a level of political commitment that buffers from cancellation, to the extent that domestic political leadership is unwilling to break international agreements. So long as the costs to diplomatic prestige and reputation that come with breaking or withdrawing from an agreement are greater than the costs and utility of that agreement, leaders will be hesitant to pursue an international program’s outright termination. Moreover, the financial cost-savings described above can serve to make audacious yet costly projects more appealing to political leaders, who must balance space funding with other budgetary priorities.

Perhaps the most frequently cited benefit of space cooperation is the diplomatic cachet and control that it can provide; space partnership is a valuable “soft power” tool. Participation in a multilateral space project increases the diplomatic influence of participating states upon each other. As such, countries use space cooperation to support their terrestrial diplomatic and geopolitical policies and aims. For example, the decision to involve Russia in the International Space Station was motivated considerably by both the United States’ desire to limit a diaspora of Russian rocket scientists following the collapse of the Soviet Union and to strengthen relations with the “new” Russia. This example, though, highlights the variable utility of space cooperation for diplomatic purposes; more utility is derived from partnering with a specific country depending on the context and importance of the partnering states’ relations in world politics. In the political environment that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russo-American cooperation in space was of greater immediate value than, as an example, pursuing Sino-American cooperation instead. To that end, the diplomatic benefit of space cooperation shifts and evolves with developments in world affairs.

It need be remembered that while space cooperation may serve as diplomatic signaling and as “grease on the wheels” for a country seeking to achieve its foreign policy aims, it is more often an effect of developments in international relations than a direct cause. While the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project was a marker and symbol of détente between the United States and Soviet Union, for example, it was not the catalyst nor the primary driver. Likewise, American cooperation with – and indeed current reliance on, for crew transportation – Russia in the International Space Station did not prevent nor has stymied the reemergence and growth of tensions between the two countries. Nonetheless, when coupled with an active diplomatic strategy on Earth, space cooperation can serve to strengthen a country’s foreign policy pursuits. And, by process of establishing diplomatic channels and acclimating leaders to partners’ decision-making processes, institutional cultures, and standard operating procedures, it enables future cooperation between countries in space and on Earth – and, critically, builds trust.

Related to the diplomatic benefit of space cooperation, and arguably of more long-term utility, is cooperation to support norm- and international regime-building. Norms are mutually accepted standards of proper or acceptable behavior which establish expectations and clarify misbehaviors; defining and defending norms helps to isolate, sanction, and limit bad behavior. This is particularly important in an environment such as space, where one actor’s misbehavior (through, for example, creating space debris) can have devastating consequences for the entire international community. While states are self-interested, maintaining an international regime that empowers them to pursue those interests – while disempowering those whose actions threaten the environment’s long-term stability and sustainability – is a compelling and important goal. As such, countries seek space partnerships and agreements with others who share at least vaguely similar values and principles to entrench them into widely accepted and lasting norms.

Cooperation in norm-setting is pursued through several methods: codification of principles in formal treaties and other legal instruments; voluntary international codes of conduct; and transparency and confidence-building measures (TCBMs). Likewise, the establishment of international regulatory regimes and entities enable the creation and oversight of rules that govern conduct of certain space activities and allow for fair competition and equitable access to space-derived benefits – such as spectrum allocation. States may also precondition partnership in a project or program on their potential partner’s buy-in on and adherence to certain norms.

And what of competition? Since the close of the Cold War, international space competition has shifted away from a superpower “race” to achieve notable “firsts” with civil space programs (though similar dynamics may still be seen among some emerging space powers, especially in the sphere of solar system exploration) to competition in the national security and commercial applications of space.

Over the recent decades, space has become an essential setting for military power projection – used for precision targeting, command and control, intelligence gathering, and maneuverability of weapons systems. For advanced militaries, national security space assets are integral to their warfighting capabilities and doctrines. For their potential adversaries, this reliance is increasingly viewed as a vulnerability that can be exploited through the development of counter-space capabilities, which include anti-satellite weapons, jammers, and hostile proximity-and-rendezvous space systems. Military competition in space will likely continue and evolve as countries cyclically develop the means to disable or destroy each other’s critical satellites and systems to defend or deter against such attacks.

Competition is inherent in the commercial sphere; commercial operators compete against each other and against foreign actors for customers and contracts. This is especially evident in the present day in the satellite communications, Earth imaging, and launch sectors. To support their domestic space industry, countries “compete” by establishing favorable regulatory environments, export control regimes, and/or subsidies that are conducive to commercial growth and overseas sales. They may also seek to involve the commercial sector in national projects and programs, occasionally at the expense of potential contributions that could have come from international partners. As the global commercial space sector blossoms, this competition – both on the part of the private operators and of their government regulators and sponsors – is bound to increase.

Notably, competition may also come through competing for partners. Countries with limited budgets need to make decisions regarding which programs they will get involved in and, as a corollary, the countries with which they will collaborate. For states seeking partners in an international project, offering attractive programmatic incentives or partnership schemes is a method to convince countries to join in lieu of other opportunities they could pursue. This may be most evident today in China’s aggressive push for partners in its upcoming modular space station.

The Limits – and Drawbacks – to Cooperation

Of course, space cooperation is not without its limitations or drawbacks, some of which are significant; these too are valuable considerations for the future of the United States’ space policy vis-à-vis the international community.

First, space cooperation is often limited to scientific and exploratory endeavors whose primary purpose are not distinctly political, military, or economic. Again, states are self-interested; while there is utility in cooperating on scientific projects that increase knowledge about the cosmos, these projects do not provide the same direct competitive advantage that gains in political influence, economic power, or national security strength do. States are understandably hesitant to pursue projects that would bolster others’ competencies in these fields, possibly at the detriment of their own relative strength. Moreover, as partnership on a project often entails transfer of technology or knowledge, states are reluctant to “give away” sensitive military or economic information and capabilities. Of course, there are caveats – in the case of military partners and allies, for example, cooperation on military capabilities in space is a way to strengthen mutual defense and further deter attacks on national security space systems.

Next, international cooperation on a space project creates programmatic dependence on all partners, requiring each to deliver what they promised on time and within agreed parameters. This creates increased complexities and occasionally heightened costs for all partners in the program – if, for example, one nation fails to deliver in time, the others must bear the cost of the schedule slippage. This presents the issue of a program’s “critical path” – who is responsible for the program’s core systems and architecture? Keeping critical systems development within the purview of one nation, while others pursue supporting or ancillary systems and equipment, presents several benefits: reducing coordination costs and eliminating potential delays from partners’ funding, technical, or policy complications. Yet at the same time, this increases costs for the country pursuing the critical path. Likewise, it may signal a lack of trust or confidence in the capabilities of a project’s partners.

Space cooperation may also create increased complexities as first-time partners try to learn and navigate the other’s political systems, cultures, and decision-making processes pertaining to space. While this increases the prospect of long-term, multi-project cooperation and is valuable for opening continuing dialogue and mutual understanding, it nonetheless can present programmatic and operational challenges for the joint mission they’re trying to achieve.

Finally, and of growing importance with the proliferation of commercial space operators, countries pursuing cooperation with foreign governments risk reducing opportunities for partnership with their own domestic space industry. As commercial space technologies and services mature, an overlap in capability is emerging among the most advanced commercial space operators and civil space programs. If both domestic industry and foreign governments can offer a similar service or competency to a mission, determining whether to pursue a partnership or a commercial contract becomes a challenging task. Ultimately, that decision is informed by the perceived utility of each; depending on a nation’s strategic goals and policies, the benefits of an international partnership may or may not be of more value than the benefits of contracting a needed service or technology out to its domestic space industry. Nonetheless, depending on the decision, potential partners (or commercial service providers) may feel slighted – or compelled to turn elsewhere. Striking an appropriate balance will present a difficult challenge for policymakers in the coming years, especially for those in countries with robust commercial space constituencies.

Implications for United States Policy

Having examined the utility and limitations of space cooperation and competition, we can return to and better address the initial question: what balance of cooperative and competitive approaches ought the United States seek in space and how should that balance be managed? The answer to this will necessarily be informed by the country’s policy priorities and objectives for outer space. Through a reading of the 2010 National Space Policy, the 2011 National Security Space Strategy, and current authorization legislation such as the Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act of 2015 and NASA Transition Authorization Act of 2017, five overarching policy goals are apparent: establish and reinforce norms of best behavior for outer space; preserve the space environment; enhance and protect national security space assets; support the domestic capabilities and international competitiveness of the commercial space sector; and pursue scientific investigation of the Earth and solar system along with beyond-Earth-orbit human exploration.

The prospect for international cooperation intersects with these goals in complex and overlapping ways. Cooperation toward one may bolster – or, conversely, undermine – progress toward another; hence the need to strike an appropriate balance. This is perhaps most apparent in the interplay between pursuing beyond-Earth-orbit exploration and fostering commercial space capabilities, to which we turn first. Looking at historical and projected trends, NASA’s budgetary limitations suggest that a unilateral return to the Moon and journey to Mars is highly unlikely. Partnership of some form seems apparent as the most practical course of action. While a cis-lunar “proving ground” period of human spaceflight has been a component of the United States’ exploration roadmap since the Obama years, the Trump Administration’s suggestion of a pivot back to the Moon – and NASA’s recent proposal of the “Deep Space Gateway” (DSG) cis-lunar station – has ignited a recent flurry of commercial and international interest in collaboration with NASA to support that objective.

Russia has proposed a Lunar Mission Support Module that would attach to the DSG, giving the outpost extra life-support, berthing, and storage capabilities. The European Space Agency has plans for its own habitat and logistics module to attach to the DSG, which it hopes to service with a European cargo spacecraft. Canada has proposed both a robotic arm, like that used on the International Space Station, and a solar sail demonstrator to fly on or near DSG. Japan hopes to leverage the DSG to conduct human landings on the Moon in the 2030s. Meanwhile, SpaceX and Blue Origin hope for commercial cargo contracts to the DSG, a host of companies touting lunar landing capabilities – including Blue Origin, Astrobotic, and Masten – seek to support the DSG with on-surface operations, and several firms are working on the NASA NextSTEP solicitation to provide, through private-public partnership, a DSG habitat and power module.

Of course, though NASA has the mandate to pursue beyond-Earth-orbit exploration, the Deep Space Gateway is still nothing more than a concept; as the maxim goes, budgets are policy – and the DSG is currently unfunded (even if NASA is deep in talks with industry and international partners about it). Still, it provides a conceptual launching point to consider the arrangements that cooperation can be pursued for the human exploration program.

First is the question of the critical path. By involving international contribution as core elements of the DSG – or whatever project ultimately gets funded – the United States could reap considerable cost-savings by prioritizing development in its core competencies. International partners are discussing providing critical capabilities such as habitation, power, life-support which, if pursued, would allow NASA focus on furnishing a core module along with launch and astronaut delivery. This type of deep integration would surely necessitate complex, long-term agreements and programmatic decision-sharing with partners. Considering the United States’ lack of political consistency on long-term, ambitious space projects over the past few decades, this may bring much needed political stability and buy-in for executing beyond-Earth-orbit exploration.

This sort of integration would, in effect, establish an arrangement akin to the International Space Station. This is an important consideration, as it would affect future programmatic decisions. At the point when the United States is ready to proceed with its mission to Mars, would its partners be ready to step away from the DSG? NASA has proposed that the DSG be capable of moving orbits to support exploration goals; consulting with partners and securing their approval for each maneuver would likely be a complex, time-consuming process. The challenges of the International Space Station, seen especially in the continuing struggle to decide on its future and fate, foreshadow the difficult questions that may come with partnership on the DSG. And what of the risk of schedule slippage? The European Space Agency’s continuing issues with producing and providing the Orion spacecraft’s service module is an omen of potential slips that could occur by relying on international partners to provide necessary components to the DSG. For a project with already high costs (and a need to maintain consistent launch cadence with the Space Launch System to keep its launch costs down), any slippage could threaten to derail NASA’s exploration timeline.

Finally, would this arrangement present opportunity for the United States’ commercial industry to offer core contributions? Drawing on the example of the International Space Station, it seems so: NASA could enter into contracts for cargo and astronaut delivery or, in the example of Bigelow’s BEAM, extra habitation space. However, if commercial is to play a supporting – rather than critical – function for the DSG, would the demand for its support be robust enough to involve several commercial partners and foster strong development in the industry? Perhaps, or perhaps not. This will depend on the level of reliance upon international contribution to the station and the level of funding NASA is willing – and able – to allocate to commercial services. Surely, though, many in the industry will feel snubbed if NASA decides to utilize the European or Russian modules for extra storage space or the European cargo spacecraft for its cargo deliveries in lieu of American companies with the same capabilities, even if it is cheaper to do so. For NASA’s leaders, finding the appropriate arrangement that maximizes cost-savings, leverages international capabilities, while still leaving opportunity for commercial involvement will be a delicate and difficult balancing act.

With that addressed, we turn to two areas where space competition should and likely will remain strategically important: the commercial and national security space sectors.

Let’s first address the commercial. To increase the competitiveness of its space industry against foreign companies and service providers, the United States’ government can pursue domestic several strategies that lower the barriers and costs to doing business. These include reform and easing of export control regulations, such as ITAR, to allow companies to sell high-technologies, currently deemed “sensitive,” to foreigners and to offer services such as launch from abroad. Likewise, regulatory and licensing processes can be simplified and streamlined, particularly for remote sensing activities and launch. Both have long been sought by the United States’ commercial space industry and, gradually, both are making progress – especially with the American Space Commerce Free Enterprise Act, which broadly overhauls commercial space licensing and authorities, currently working its way through Congress. The government can also consider offering incentives, be it in the form of tax credits, direct investment, or a more permissive regulatory environment, to entice space companies to do business in and from the United States. This strategy has seen success abroad, especially in Luxembourg, the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia, and to a degree in China, which offers bundled and subsidized satellite construction/launch services – all representative of the growing international competition for leadership in commercial space.

Of course, business anywhere requires a predictable legal environment and a relatively secure physical environment – especially so for business in space, where costs of entry and failure are high. Uncertainties such as questions over the legality of space property rights and the issues of space traffic management, space debris, and space weather pose challenges for the global commercial space sector (not to mention civil and national security space programs). Is it in the United States’ interest to pursue international cooperation as a solution to these issues? Keeping in mind the value of norm and regime-building, cooperation would seem to allow for a stable environment in which its commercial space sector could more securely operate. Yet doing so would also enable opportunities for foreign commercial space ventures to more readily compete. Still, considering that maintaining a secure space environment is a policy goal for the United States, it is evident that international cooperation on these problems is indeed the best strategy for American policymakers.

How, then, might cooperation be pursued for these issues? First, regarding the legality of space property rights: through recognizing, in the 2015 Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act, the right for American citizens to own material mined in space, the United States has set in motion a precedent for space property rights – one with which many in the international community disagree. Legitimate questions exist about mining in the context of the non-appropriation provision of the Outer Space Treaty, though the United States has long maintained that the two are mutually compatible. And other countries, particularly Luxembourg, have begun to establish their own legal frameworks enabling space mining and private space property rights. To that end: the United States can pursue (and has) high-level multilateral dialogue on issues pertaining to space mining and its legality; these could include memorandums of understanding with countries about non-interference in mining activities and environmental protections. And, by simply allowing such operations to go forth while regulating and supervising them in a responsible manner, the United States could begin to establish norms of best practice. Ultimately, the legality of space property rights may require a new international treaty – though pursuing this option, at least in the short- to mid-term, is a non-starter.

With space situational awareness, the United States has made – and should continue to seek – good progress establishing data-sharing agreements with partners to enhance the tracking of objects in space. Considering that the United States Air Force already provides tracking information and warnings to operators across the world, continuing cooperation to integrate global monitoring systems and data more deeply into trajectory calculations is an obvious course of action. Yet the discussion of space situational awareness often evolves into one of space traffic management – a far more complicated arrangement. Consideration of this may be premature, as the United States has not yet established an authority to manage space traffic (though proposals have been floated of giving it to the FAA’s Office of Commercial Space Transportation), though early thoughts are warranted nonetheless.

To be truly effective, a space traffic management system must have global reach and be capable of compelling operators to maneuver if needed – akin to air traffic control. Should the United States content itself with allowing countries to pursue their own space traffic management systems and be responsible only for the operators within their jurisdiction? If so, working to establish an international coordinating body that normalizes countries’ space traffic management regimes – perhaps analogous to ICAO – could be an approach toward an effective system. Yet in that approach, or in standing up an international regulatory body with powers of compulsion, the United States risks both its own national security and economic competitiveness. Should the United States be compelled to move a surveillance satellite, for example, or an American company to move their communications satellite because an international organization tells them to? Doing so would represent cooperation in managing space traffic, yet is a clear example of the potential drawbacks of such cooperation. These are questions for future years – which will be informed by the organizations, processes, and procedures that will evolve to execute the role – yet the impending difficulty policymakers will have striking a balance between cooperation and competition on space traffic is clear to see.

There is then the issue of space debris, where striking a future balance between cooperation and competition will likewise be complex. Through international forums such as the Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordinating Committee, the United States has done well promulgating its orbital debris mitigation standards internationally; same too with gradual work on the UN Guidelines on the Long-term Sustainability of Outer Space. However, with satellite mega-constellations soon to fly and a considerable number of defunct satellites stuck in long-duration orbits, many anticipate debris removal and remediation being an eventual necessity to deal with the space debris issue.

The 2010 National Space Policy directs NASA to begin development of active debris removal (ADR) technologies, though, as Brian Weeden of the Secure World Foundation points out,

“Minimal progress has been made on developing ADR technology. The initial interest shown by the DOD has waned, and NASA has decided it will not pursue R&D of ADR technologies beyond some very limited low-level efforts… [i]t is believed that the main reason for this limitation was an unwillingness by NASA to take on a potentially costly major new initiative without additional funding from Congress.”[6]

Significant legal and economic, not to mention funding, challenges confront the feasibility of active debris removal. Because space objects – including debris – are permanently within the jurisdiction of the state to which they’re registered, government permission will be required to interact with and remove any space object and governments will be legally liable for any damages that occur because of ADR activities. To that end, it would seem reasonable for the United States to pursue dialogue with other states about establishing transfer-of-ownership agreements and conventions on the liability of debris removal, establishing a normative or legal regime for space debris removal. This could come done in several ways: through MOUs and high-level discussions, or through a cooperative civil mission with other states.

A cooperative civil mission between governments would come with several of the benefits identified in space cooperation – driving down costs and risk for technology development and execution on the part of each partner (which, as Weeden noted, are currently a prohibitive factor) and establishing norms and expectations of debris removal practices by fiat. However, several companies have interest in – and identified prospective competitive business cases for – active space debris removal. Meanwhile, the technologies used for debris removal are inherently “dual-use,” in that they can be used to deorbit functional satellites just as well as debris. Whether the United States can justify this potential risk to its space security will be informed by the level of trust and military cooperation it holds in the potential partners with which it could collaborate. Ultimately, the decision on whether the United States should actively pursue an international program or simply strive to establish enabling norms for debris removal will come down to how policymakers weigh the merits and utility of a government-to-government partnership against national security considerations and turning over the potentially profitable activities to its commercial sector.

Finally, we turn to cooperation and competition in the use of space for national security. Space will continue to be used to more closely support warfighting operations on Earth, and it intuitively makes sense for the United States to pursue cooperation and integration with its military partners to increase mutual capabilities. The real question for cooperation is whether direct competition in space (i.e. it becoming weaponized and a theater of war, not for war) can, through TCBMs or other agreements, be prevented.

This is a topic in and of itself, yet some high-level observations can be made. Foremost is that any agreement must preserve the United States’ national security interests and capability to protect its space assets – including, if needed, through retaliation. This is, of course, spelled out in the 2010 National Space Policy. To that end – any agreements, be them through international forums such as the United Nations Conference on Disarmament or on a state-to-state basis, need to be transparent, verifiable, enforceable, and genuinely allow for protection of space assets from destructive attack. Current proposals toward that end, such as the Chinese/Russian proposal to ban anti-satellite weapons is, are lacking in enforceability and verifiability – as frequently noted by American national security leaders. So long as other countries have counter-space capabilities beyond kinetic hit-to-kill vehicles, the United States cannot afford to tie its hand in protecting its space assets. That said, some approaches may work; for example, the United States could pursue agreements on preventing use of weapons, be them kinetic or not, that would create undue amounts of space debris during an attack. A cooperative agreement of this sort would still allow for some level of protective retaliation in the event of an attack, while having the added benefit of protecting the space environment should conflict erupt in space.

In the meantime, the United States can continue to consider or pursue scientific or exploratory cooperation with potential adversaries in space in order to build mutual trust, reinforce norms of good behavior, and open channels for space dialogue and understanding – which may mitigate the possibility of unintended miscalculations and military escalation in the space domain should a crisis on Earth break out.

On Cooperation with China

This leads into oft-debated subject in the field of space cooperation – that of potential partnerships between the United States and China. At present, NASA is forbidden by law from cooperating with the Chinese in space; any potential partnership in the future would first require a change in that statute. Is the utility of space cooperation with China, compared to the drawbacks, strong enough to warrant that?

First, a look the drawbacks: the most frequently cited is the national security risk that cooperation with the Chinese could entail. It stands to reason that, as international partnerships in space involve the exposure and sharing of U.S. technology and information, China would acquire and benefit from American technology. As space technology often carries “dual-use” benefit, cooperating with the Chinese risks sacrificing the United States’ technological advantage and thereby compromises its national security – an important consideration, given that China, to many in the national security field, represents the United States’ greatest space threat. Next, does China have anything to offer to a project that would equitably match and benefit the United States’ contribution? For more sophisticated projects such as human spaceflight, there is a presumption that the United States’ competencies are far greater than China’s; as such, the United States would likely contribute more money or greater capabilities to a project. If this is the case, the relative benefits of cooperating are much greater for China than for the United States. Unless there is substantial diplomatic utility to the project, cooperation on most high-profile projects wouldn’t seem to advance the United States’ competitive advantage in space and therefore isn’t reasonable.

What of the diplomatic utility, though? As noted, working with the Chinese in Space would present the United States with an opportunity to learn their standard operating procedures and decision-making processes. This would be valuable toward limiting misunderstanding or miscalculation among American policymakers, as it would allow them to more accurately determine and decipher China’s intended use of dual-use space technologies. Space cooperation between the two countries would also signal – and, over time, establish – growing trust and confidence between them. During a time of tension on Earth, coming from a perspective of presumed good intention would better mitigate miscalculation or escalation in space than the current status-quo.

To that end: a cooperative venture with China need not be expensive or high-profile; joint efforts of scientific value, such as monitoring climate change or space weather, could benefit both countries both diplomatically and in the pursuit of the goal of a secure space environment. These could come in the form of programmatic cooperation, such as flying instruments on each other’s satellites, or in the sharing of already collected data. With both countries interested in lunar activity, sharing data about lunar conditions and lunar surface composition could help create meaningful patterns of interaction that lower barriers to information exchange – and which may pave the way to further cooperation.

Of course, engagement will need to be strongly conditioned on transparency, limited in expectations, and involve consultation with the United States’ current allies. Ultimately, as Listner and Johnson-Freese point out, “[w]hether outer space cooperation with China will… become a reality will be a political decision, and that decision must be made by considering both the globalist and geopolitical viewpoint when weighing the pros and cons.”[7]

Concluding Suggestions

This piece has provided a high-level review and assessment of the utility and drawbacks of space cooperation and competition, along with their general implications for the United States’ broad space policy. While specific decisions on whether to pursue partnerships in space, and on what programs and issue areas, will be made on a case-by-case basis weighing utility versus drawbacks, several general conclusions about space cooperation and competition can be drawn:

At its best, programmatic space cooperation provides each partner with capabilities they themselves do not have, minimizes their individual cost burdens, and equitably advances their policy goals. Depending on the partnership’s arrangement, however, countries may become beholden to – and responsible for – others’ struggles with schedule or cost.

Space cooperation pursued for diplomatic purposes should support foreign policy objectives. While cooperation in space may not drive relations on Earth, it is a valuable tool for establishing channels of dialogue and building mutual understanding.

Cooperation, especially in the form of TCBMs, multilateral agreements, and norm-building, can be used to support benign competition (such as enabling opportunities for commercial activity) and temper malignant competition (such as in-space use of hostile force).

As the commercial sector becomes more vibrant, policymakers will need to weigh the utility of cooperation with the international community against the utility of cooperation with the private sector. Both offer different – occasionally disparate – benefits; depending on the policy objectives of a program, the utility of one will outweigh the utility of another.

To close, the author, drawing from this assessment, would like to provide a short- to mid-term programmatic proposal – pursuing, in conjunction with the Deep Space Gateway, the “Moon Village” concept laid out by the European Space Agency. The Moon Village is envisioned as an open collaborative effort on a lunar base which could support a mix of civil and commercial research, tourism, and economic activity such as mining and be a springing board for deeper human exploration of the solar system.

European contributions to the DSG could be solicited as supporting the Moon Village (through capabilities such as tele-robotics terminals, human-rated lunar landers, or modules to store supplies for the lunar surface), while NASA focuses on the “critical path” – developing DSG’s primary habitation and power modules and furnishing launch. Commercial operators could be given the role of resupplying the DSG, with partners developing redundant capability for their own use if needed. In leveraging the “gateway” aspect of DSG, the station could be used as a platform to travel to and from the Moon. At the Moon Village, commercial operators could perform a host of functions to support research goals, such as landing instruments and running experiments for the space agencies, while also carrying out their own activities such as lunar mining. If in-situ resource extraction becomes practical, over time the Moon Village could be used to produce fuel and a fuel depot to store it could be attached to the DSG. As the Moon Village is envisioned as openly collaborative, China, which has lunar interests of its own, could be invited to participate, carrying out its own research and activities while making use of – and contributing to – the Moon Village’s supporting infrastructure.

The arrangement of this proposal seeks to maximize the value of international cooperation, minimize its drawbacks, and balance between all potential partners. By having NASA focus on the DSG’s critical path, it minimizes the risk of schedule slippage on the actual hardware; European contributions would be ancillary to core DSG functions. However, as the Moon Village would be deeply integrated into the cis-lunar program, European contributions would still be critical to the overall endeavor. The Moon Village, meanwhile, would present robust opportunity for commercial activity. By having commercial operators conduct lunar mining there, in addition to supporting government needs, normative buy-in could be secured on the principles of space mining and resource extracting. Moreover, if it becomes a facility for in-space fuel production and a facility to practice and experiment with long term on-surface operations, it would be a lasting launching point for eventual missions to Mars. And finally, by providing opportunity for constructive Chinese participation, meaningful channels of dialogue could be established along with mutual confidence-building in the responsible use of the lunar surface.

Whether an arrangement akin to this will be considered or pursued remains to be seen. Yet what is certain is that cooperation – and competition – will continue to define the activities of states in outer space for years to come. Policymakers will need to be smart in the challenging tasks of balancing between potential partners, in maximizing the utility of partnerships, and in pursuing the projects that best advance their national interest – but ultimately, doing so will be far preferable than going it in space alone.

Christopher Johnson, “Policy and Law Aspects of International Cooperation in Space,” American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, 2001. https://swfound.org/media/169354/policy_law_aspects_international_cooperation_space.pdf

Jeff Foust, “Japan has plans to land astronauts on the moon by 2030 -with a little help from the United States,” SpaceNews, June 29, 2017. http://spacenews.com/mda-establishes-company-to-commercialize-satellite-servicing-technology/

Jeff Foust, “The Role of International Cooperation in China’s Space Station Plans,” SpaceNews, October 14 2014. http://spacenews.com/42183sn-blog-the-role-of-international-cooperation-in-chinas-space-station-plans/

[5] NASA Policy Directive 1360.2B, “Initiation and Development of International Cooperation in Space and Aeronautics Programs,” August 2014. https://nodis3.gsfc.nasa.gov/displayDir.cfm?t=NPD&c=1360&s=2B

As a key organizational and operational construct within the highest levels of the United States’ military, combatant commands – along with their commanders – play significant roles in U.S. defense policy. These commands, organized either on a geographical or functional basis, provide effective command and control of military forces, regardless of branch of service, in peace and war. By their nature, they offer U.S. defense policy and application of military force several benefits, but likewise face several challenges.

The combatant command structure emerged out of an evolution, prompted by historical circumstances, in the military’s approach to force unity and command and control. Prior to the Second World War, the services operated independently. Coordination between branches of the armed forces was frequently marred by bureaucratic distrust and service rivalry. The experience of the Second World War, particularly in the Pacific theater, demonstrated the operational pitfalls of this arrangement; differences between the Army and Navy precluded any sort of consistent unified command. While commanders were able to work together to defeat Japan, it wasn’t without considerable fiction and infighting as commanders within the independent, powerful commands competed for the same resources and the attention of senior leadership.

Given the dynamics of the post-war geopolitical environment, a global military presence was viewed as a guarantee against Communist expansion. Achieving such presence necessitated an effective, geographically-focused, long-term, joint-command arrangement. Between this and the lessons learned from the Second World War, legislation over the course of three decades established geographic unified commands, clarified lines of command for unified commanders, and, per the Goldwater-Nichols Department of Defense Reorganization Act of 1986, permanently assigned forces to unified combatant commands.

The premise and purpose of Combatant Commands remains essentially the same today. Combatant commanders integrate and utilize air, land, sea, and amphibious forces within the geographic or functional area of their control to achieve U.S. national security objectives. They are responsible for accomplishing missions assigned to their region, designating objectives, assigning tasks, and giving authoritative direction over all aspects of military operations as well as all aspects of joint-training and logistics. Likewise, they are responsible for establishing command relationships with subordinate commands and for organizing subordinate units as deemed necessary. They take direction from the Commander in Chief – the President – and are responsible to the Secretary of Defense.

Combatant commands offer several benefits. First, and perhaps most importantly, they provide unified and integrated command and control of cross-service forces in a theater. This is critical for the United States’ current military doctrines, which emphasis use of joint-service application of force. By minimizing confusion, competition, and conflict between the services in operations, the military can more effectively conduct its primary mission of keeping America secure and waging conflict. For functional combatant commands, integrating all elements of a particular warfighting domain – such as cyber, space, and strategic forces – under a single chain of command allows for easier oversight, coordination, and rapidity of action.

Second, as regional combatant commanders wield considerable influence over American foreign policy in their area of responsibility and have the resources and authority to act quickly, they can be disproportionately effective, compared to other American foreign policy actors, in shaping dialogue and events in theater so as to advance American security and foreign policy interests. Likewise, their relationships and integration with regional counterparts through military engagement programs provides them policy leverage that other elements of the U.S. foreign policy apparatus may not possess. Frequently, the power to “get something done” may lie with a foreign military rather than in a foreign ministry. As such, the United States’ government has increasingly deferred to and provided resources for combatant commanders to achieve regional objectives, regardless of whether those objectives are distinctly military in nature or not.

Combatant commands also come with challenges both inherent to their structure and manifest from their historical and contemporary execution. First is manifest from the policy influence that combatant commanders have. Commentators have suggested that combatant commanders have overstepped their bounds in executing American foreign policy. The resources of the DoD and combatant commands may provide a quick response to a foreign issue, but not necessarily the correct or most effective response. Once combatant commands are engaged in a foreign policy effort, they tend to continue, as it is difficult and time consuming to transfer responsibilities to civil organizations. Because of this, civilian agencies that are, by law and by tradition, supposed to manage U.S. foreign relations have tended to be relegated to an increasingly secondary role – and have faced budgetary pressures reflecting that. Similarly, the influence of combatant commanders and their role in executing U.S. foreign policy raises questions about the civilian oversight and control.

This issue ultimately comes down to a key point bout handling the issues of today’s world. Military engagement programs with other countries can be seen only as part of the overall engagement activity of the U. S. government. Modern security challenges such as terrorism, narcotics, smuggling, and international criminal networks can no longer be managed as single agency programs but must be integrated into “whole of government” programs. That combatant commands and their commanders have widened, not closed, the gap between the foreign policy agencies involved in a “whole of government” approach is a distinct challenge and concern.

Next, the geographically organized and regionally focused combatant command structure does not readily accommodate solutions to post-Cold War era challenges such as the emergence of transnational groups and regional powers, which operate outside traditional borders and in nontraditional domains. Strict geographic regionalism is no longer how the world operates. From this stems issues of and disagreement over responsibility over problems that extend across areas of command. Coordination on handling these new and emerging challenges will be increasingly difficult if the rigidity of the combatant command structure is maintained. Meanwhile, the lead for two major security concerns of priority today – international terrorism and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction – falls squarely on the shoulders of two functional combatant commands – Special Operations command and Strategic Command, respectively. The geographic combatant commands are, by their nature, not designated as the lead organizations for managing two of the United States’ primary military challenges.

Considering these challenges, experts both within and outside the Department of Defense have offered several suggestions for reform of the combatant command structure – or fundamental change to the way the United States organizes command and control. Nonetheless, in the present day, combatant commands play a vital role within the United States’ military and defense policy, and their commanders are actors of considerable influence for American foreign policy. The combatant command structure has brought the United States considerable military advantage throughout the past decades – even if it comes with drawbacks and faces increasingly difficult questions and issues.

For leaders and decision-makers grappling with a diversity of complex, occasionally competing, national interests, as well as with challenges in every region of the world, the ability to hierarchize interest and threat vis-à-vis national goals enables them to effectively allocate attention and resources to priorities. Ideally, this is achieved through crafting and implementing “strategy.” While the process of formulating and employing strategy is rife with challenges and shortcomings, it is nonetheless one of significant meaning and importance for U.S. foreign and defense policy. In lack of a strategy – a firm grasp, prioritization, and articulation of national interests – there is a danger that policy will wander according to the crisis or fashion of the moment and that policymakers will be exposed to distraction, confusion, and be led to overreach.

A “good” strategy is a method, not an endpoint. It is a process of defining political ends, of identifying critical approaches for achieving those ends, and of problem-solving in circumstances where much lies outside decision-makers’ ability to control. Good strategy reduces uncertainty in times of ambiguity and clarifies which options for action and reaction are in line with national priorities, preparing leaders to act in integrated ways even when surprised. Likewise, in an international environment saturated with potential challenges, threats, and opportunities, a strategy delivers guidance on which should be deemed and treated as critical for national attention and which should not.

Beyond providing a methodology for thinking about and acting upon decisions, crafting strategy offers functional benefits for the organizations that engage in it. First, a strategy helps bridge the gap between the government’s resources and policy ambitions. Limitless policy and programmatic opportunities are bounded by real constraints in funding and manpower. Through the act of declaring top priorities and goals, policymakers can identify the programs that support them most closely, which warrant a greater share of the limited available budget, and appropriate accordingly. Next, the process itself of developing a strategy helps focus policymakers and bureaucracies. As with any thought-exercise, it provides policymakers an opportunity to consider more closely national needs, goals, and options to pursue them. It allows them to hone in on an integrated way of thinking and doing amidst the confusion of constantly changing events. Articulating priorities provides guidance to implementers throughout the bureaucracy for devising executable steps toward achieving them.

Finally, strategy serves an important messaging function that conveys the intent of defense policy to audiences both domestic and international. In the domestic sphere, it informs the public and Congress of the Department of Defenses’ interests, concerns, and policy priorities. Deciding whether to abide by a strategy through authorizations and appropriations that align with its tenets is ultimately the prerogative of Congress; nonetheless, it is valuable for members and their staff to understand how the Department of Defense intends to approach issues – how it “thinks” – when developing policy. Internationally, it communicates to friends and foes alike how the United States sees global developments and how it will act to shape them and in response. This offers allies an opportunity to align their own strategies to support and supplement the United States, and serves as a form of warning or deterrent to potential adversaries.

The strategies that most effectively achieve these aims consist of certain key elements. First, and perhaps most important, a good strategy is realistic. One that fails to consider, or misconstrues, the real limits of national means and power defeats the purpose of providing decision-makers guidance on how best to employ available resources to advance the national interest. A realistic strategy acknowledges constraints; indeed, in doing so, it prepares decision-makers for making choices that account for these constraints and work around them. Similarly, good strategies are limited in objective and scope. A broad strategy makes it difficult for policymakers to prioritize top objectives, especially given the limited means available to execute, and runs the risk of leading to overextension and decisions that conflict with each other. With a broad strategy, hierarchies of interests and threats tend to become blurred or collapse altogether. Instead of cataloguing every interest, strategy should consist of decision rules that allow for application to events as they unfold.

Good strategies are clear in direction, to allow for their consistent implementation through all levels of the bureaucracy and across multiple decisionmakers. Strategies that are unclear or ambiguous in tenet and direction lead to different interpretations among various levels of the bureaucracy, which can muddle execution and lead to non-integrated action. Finally, a good strategy is one that is conceptualized and crafted through an inclusive process that involves all stakeholders. Not only does this secure needed buy-in from the wide array of actors responsible for implementing the strategy, but it allows for a diversity of perspectives to be offered, taken into consideration, and included.

The process of crafting and implementing defense strategy is a challenging one. With multiple constituencies seeking to involve their particular interests or “pet projects” in a strategic framework, the strategy that emerges risks being burdened by excessive and specific detail. Detail can be constraining – a good strategy is limited in scope and breadth – as it minimizes the space for recalibration and adaptation to changing circumstances. The discipline to minimize detail in a strategy is not always forthcoming. Meanwhile, competition regarding priorities, programs, and approaches to be included in a strategy tends to emerge between career bureaucrats and political appointees. By virtue of their different positions and prerogatives, both have different – often-contradictory – perspectives on the best course of action to take. Political appointees seek to advance the agenda of the Administration and correspondingly approach strategy with a short-term, politicized focus. Particularly within the Department of Defense, career bureaucrats with long institutional histories and knowledge tend to seek preservation of the status-quo and to protect or give priority to their own institutional interests. Striking a balance between these perspectives can be a difficult task, necessitating significant compromise and limiting the extent to which an Administration can pursue its defense policy aims and objectives.

A further challenge in executing strategy is linking the long-term goals set by planners and “strategists” with the short- and mid-term actions that operators can reasonably take to deal with a crisis of the moment. Imperatives do not always align on the short- and long-term perfectly, and planners and operators have different institutional incentives to address tensions. Even with good strategies that are clear in direction and guidance, implementation will suffer because of differing pressures and competencies throughout all levels of the bureaucracy. Finally, a continuing, indeed, inherent, challenge with crafting and implementing strategy is simply that of its nature. How does one know that a strategy is good? How can one be sure that a strategy is working? These are questions without clear answers – decision-makers can work only with their best assumptions and predictions about the world and alter those assumptions as needed. Strategies need to both offer a framework for dealing with security challenges and world events but also simultaneously allow for flexibility and adaptability to new situations.

Despite these challenges, the act of developing, articulating, and implementing strategy is and will remain an invaluable tool for the Department of Defense and American defense policy. An integrated way of thinking about and handling the world’s challenges, even if flawed, is always superior for advancing national interest than haphazardly stumbling into the crises of vogue.